Bad Moon Risin'
by TheTacticalHoneyBadger
Summary: He thought he laid down his rifle and opted for somethin' better, somethin' more honest. Truth was, a man can't outrun his past, and when he's done enough bad things, life has a funny little way of getting back at you. She's a bitch, Life, and when she comes to collect those debts you've left behind? Only thing you can really do is hope you die with damn dignity and a little pride.


_"Ya got what ya were after, so pay up already!"_

The words penetrated the darkness and cut through the fog of his consciousness, stirring him, pulling him back to the world around him, ripping him from his dreams as he kept those eyes closed. He kept them closed out of desperation, trying to feel out his surroundings, trying to hear, to listen, to figure out what the hell just happened despite the fact that the throbbin' ache in the back of his skull burned hotter than a heavy incinerator on full throttle.

_"You're cryin' in tha' rain, Pally."_ What? What the fuck? What was this? New Reno? No, he couldn't be that far southwest. That accent, only Bishop's goons spoke like that. His jaw ached somethin' fierce and he could feel the bruises swelling along it without movin' his hands up to feel his pretty mug, those sons of bitches must have knocked him out like a chump, worked him over when he was down from the initial assault. Pricks. He'd laid low better men than these, it was a rookie fuckin' mistake to let his guard down like he did, he shoulda knew somethin' was up with that job the moment that he saw the paygrade and the item he was supposed to deliver. Son of a bitch. He shifted elbows, just enough to get leverage, tryin' to feel out the bonds against his wrists, maybe he could get out of the goddamned things if he felt it just.. _Crunch_. It was quiet, but in his situation it felt like a bullhorn went off, 'cept instead of a bullhorn's noise, it was screamin' **"Lookit me! Look at me!" **Fuck his luck sometimes.

_"Guess who's wakin' up over here?" _Goddamn it. How many of them were there? This voice made three. Sure, three guys. Maybe he could handle them if he knew where his guns were, maybe if he wasn't bound at the hands with his head not feelin' like it got kicked in. Two more at his back now, he felt'em haul him to his knees, which was just as well. He was openin' those blue eyes anyways, squinting those peepers to adjust to the dark, to the light of the full moon only to look around him. _Oh, great, a graveyard. _That wasn't cliche. His eyes flickered back to the front. Khans, well, at least most of'em were. One wasn't. Too clean, too suave, his talkin' was too pretty. Though, he guessed, it was the man's demeanor and the way he carried himself that set him apart from the rest. Son of a bitch, he wanted to knock the fuckin' pretty boy right off his face along with that smug grin that he was givin' him.

Not a goddamn bit of remorse in his eyes, not even when they locked together. Good, good. No use in expectin' a man to cry over killin' you, but he supposed the son of a bitch could've at least offered him a hit off that Big Boss cancerstick between those manicured fingers of his. He gritted his teeth, rollin' his jaw as he heard the Bastard-In-The-Checkered-Suit speak out in an exhale of smoke as he dropped the dead-an'-dyin' cigarette.

"_Time to cash out." _The grim look on his face seemed to darken as The Courier's lips curled into a grim smile of his own, as if to ask _Ain't it just? _

_"Would you get it over?"_ Angry, or was it shakey? It came from one of the two Khans up front, the younger one. Guy looked like he might've been hitting the jet a little bit too hard; one day that shit was gonna get him killed.

_"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' them in th'face, but I ain't no fink, dig?"_ Speaking in a tone of disdain, of condenscension as he turned back to the Courier, almost looking apologetic for the first time as he rolled those surprisingly broad shoulders in a backwards motion as if to shrug it off before reachin' for the inside coat pocket as he kept his eyes locked with the kneeling man's as if he was making a confession. "_You made your last last delivery kid."_ Out came the chip as he drew it forward, flashing it towards him between his fingers.

That rat fuck, if his hands weren't tied, he'd lunge forward just to feel what it felt like to have his hands around that checkered-suit's throat. He practically growled at the man as he began to place the chip back into the folds of his coat. That's what he gets for not dumping the goods, taking the money, and running his ass back to New Reno so fast it'd make a man's head spin from sheer confusion at the marvel of cowardice.

Killed, over a fuckin' toy.

"_Sorry you got twisted all up in this mess."_ ..His hand was still in that coat, and the courier's attention got drawn towards what got pulled. He knew, god did he know. He saw this shit comin' a mile away. The rustle of steel against leather, even in the confines of a coat.. He knew what was coming, and it was almost a relief in a twisted sort of a way to see the ornate flash of the engraved pistol as Benny's thumb rolled the hammer back.

_"From where you're standin' this must seem like an eighteen karat run of bad luck but.."_ That son of a bitch had the audacity to shrug as he leveled the pistol on him, lookin' down the sights as he pointed it at his forehead. The courier didn't scream, he didn't whimper. At the moment, just at that moment, the world slowed down and it.. It seemed alright.

_"…But, truth is? The game was rigged from the start."_

He played roulette with his life it seemed, and it _looked_ like he lost the draw.

That was the goddamned thing, wasn't it? He didn't have tricks up his sleeves, no moves to play. He had notrhin' but his integrity left, he wasn't the type to beg, to grovel, to lick at the boots of a man. He never begged another man for his life so long as he lived it, and he didn't figure on doing it now. He locked those eyes with Benny and he didn't blink, not one twitch of the brow. He wasn't scared now. He was before, he was panicking, he felt calm.

He felt, _ready_.

"Do it."

Maybe it was the way he said it, maybe it was the fact he meant it. His eyes were on Benny's and Benny's were on his. Neither man budged, and for the first time Benny seemed to smile but in a different way. It wasn't smug, it wasn't meant to be wrought with disdain or contempt, it wasn't condescending. Hell, it was almost sad, apologetic even, but most of all?

It was understanding.

_"Sorry to see you go, Kid."_

"Sorry I didn't see you go first."

_"Them's the breaks, Baby."_

"We'll settle up on the other side."

_"Well, Pussy-Cat. Here's t'that."_

Benny tightened his grip on that ornate pistol, snuggling his hand up into the high grip on that pistol an' slipped his index finger into the trigger guard, stroking the calloused pad of his index finger along the polished trigger before..

_**BANG**_!

_War. war never changes._


End file.
